


If Ever You Should Falter

by arachnidstardis



Series: Dersecest is a wonderful thing [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, F/M, Homestuck AU, Okay I have no idea where this is going, but i found a bunch of headcanons and wrote this according to that, so have some AU fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:34:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnidstardis/pseuds/arachnidstardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dersecest Headcanons High School AU generated by sunflowerwonder.  I had to write it.<br/>Hopefully will mostly be fluffy.  Yay.<br/>The story line may jump around between time periods (usually forward, but I'll make a note if it goes backwards).<br/>This is part 1 of the series, not part 2, but I don't know how to fix it so just read this part first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dope Rhymes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunflowerwonder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerwonder/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. First chapter. Elementary school, circa 2001ish. Enjoy.

The sun shone down onto an empty elementary school playground, a slight breeze ruffling the trees that ringed the open field and playscape. A bell sounded inside the school, and a tidal wave of children soared out of the small double doors and crashed on the playground.

A slight, dirty blond child exited the doors after the initial rush of children had dulled to a trickle. He headed to a large oak tree, its roots exposed, that was planted a few feet away from the door.  Sitting down among the roots facing away from the field, and opened up a book with the words "Edgar A. Poe" on the cover. The boy furrowed his heavily freckled nose in concentration and squinted his reddish-brown eyes. He was pale, so pale that it seemed he would burn even from the faint sunlight that filtered through the shade of the oak. The boy had turned several pages of his book, surprisingly quickly for an eight-year-old, when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around to see a girl who looked about his age sitting next to him. She was a white cat, or an owl, ice-blond hair falling past her lavender-clad shoulders, purplish eyes as strange as his own staring unblinkingly at him, lips curled into a serene smile.

The boy frowned defensively. "What do you want?"

The girl's smile grew. "I was just wondering as to why a second grader would find it entertaining to be studying the works of Poe instead of interacting with his peers."

He blinked. "Man, I'm just reading this stuff to get the edge on my bro in our rap-offs. Poe has the handle on dope rhymes and sick fires. Hella ironic." He leveled a cool stare at the girl, daring her to challenge him. "I'm reading unimaginable levels of ironic coolness right now that your girly, cootie-filled brain can't even comprehend."

She quirked a thin eyebrow slightly, but her smile remained firmly in place. "Well then, I believe your endeavor will be quite successful. Poe is quite the master of verse."

Another wide stare. "Who are you?"

"Rose Lalonde," the girl replied cooly. "And you?"

The boy paused, as if he hadn't considered giving out his own name in response. "I'm Dave.  Dave Strider. "

"We'll, it's wonderful to make your acquaintance, Mr. Strider," Rose smiled. She pulled out her own tome, with the words "E. Dickinson" inscribed on the cover (this earned a snort from Dave) and sat down among the roots.

That first day, they were nearly locked out of the school, they read for so long. Dave was surprised the next day when the ghost-like girl showed up again, but by the end of the week they had settled into a silent routine of reading beside each other.

When the weather got chilly and Dave continued to show up in his uniform of a t-shirt and jeans, Rose came in with a blanket. However, with the first snowfall, the pair was forced to relocate to Rose's third grade classroom.

****

"Why are you in third grade if your birthday is only a day after mine?"

"I informed my mother that I was bored in class because I had learned everything the teacher was teaching us on my own. I was moved up a grade. It didn't rectify the situation, but I do occasionally learn something from time to time.

****

One day in the spring, Rose showed up with a notebook instead of her usual poetry or story book.

"What is that?"

"I've decided to write my own prose. My mother has expressed concern that I am reading too much enough prose lately, so I have opted to write my own instead.

Dave perked up at the mention of original writing. "I've been trying to make an awesome comic, like my bro. But cooler, because he doesn't read up on sick rhymes, like me."

"Do you think it would benefit from a peer review?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a short chapter, but I'll try to make the next longer.  
> In case you didn't pick up on it, Rose and Dave are only a day apart age-wise, but Rose skipped a grade. I think this'll be obvious but whatever. Also Rose and Dave are surprisingly precocious for eight-year-olds. Just roll with it. Next chapter is high school.
> 
> My tumblr is arachnidstardis.tumblr.com if anyone has any questions about this or wants to point out some horrendous grammar error, which is entirely possible. Even if it's a small error, please point it out, because I hate that.


	2. Of Coolkids and Gothterrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow teenagers. Dave is a little shit and Rose is a smug bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was longer than the last. Enjoy. I plan about three chapters after this, so hopefully it doesn't explode into more. Sorry for the delay, and I'll update when I can.

Dave Strider, age sixteen and full of irony, sauntered into his AP English class at the last possible second, the bell chiming as his feet crossed the threshold. Rose winked at him from the front row as he headed to the seat directly behind her.

“Mr. Strider,” the teacher said, “just because you have acquired a special privilege as a sophomore in an Advanced Placement class does not mean that you can just waltz in here on the bell every day.”

Muffled giggles sounded from behind Dave.

“Ma’am, I’m fairly sure that I’m not actually late, so I’m not entirely sure why it’s a problem.” His nearly-absent Southern drawl leaked through his sarcastic comment.

The teacher glared at Dave, then sighed and shut the door without her usual comment about disrespect. “Okay, everyone, let’s discuss the symbolism of the lamp in last night’s reading....”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dave nudged Rose on the way out of English, ninety minutes later.

“Hey, Lalonde, ready to get your spooky ass kicked on that essay?”

He towered over her now, six feet of skin, bone, and lean muscle from rooftop scuffles, ghost-pale as Rose from hours in from of his computer despite spending every summer in Texas. In fact, the only things he ever came back from the Lone Star State with were sunburn on his nose, darker freckles on his cheeks, and a slightly stronger drawl on his tongue. His hair was now platinum, nearly identical to Rose’s, but the product of chemicals rather than genetics. The ever-present sunglasses clung to the neckline of his shirt tenuously as he slung an arm around Rose’s shoulders.

The beginnings of a rambling metaphor centered around how badly he was going to outmaneuver her in the essay began to echo around the hallway, punctuated with wild gesticulations. Rose endured the metaphor with her same wry smile.

“That monkey just surveys his domain like he’s the fucking King of England. Chopping off heads, marrying bitches, cutting off more heads, conquering empires. It doesn’t get better than that,” he finished, and looked down at Rose. “Ready to be a dead monkey bride, Lalonde?”

Her hair was no longer a curtain of white, as she had cropped it into a short bob, complete with meticulously curled bangs. She had committed the deed at age twelve when her mother had remarked on how lovely her long hair was, and had kept it ever since. Her periwinkle eyes were made even more owl-like by the excess of eyeshadow she wore to match her ebony lipstick.

“You may not want to exemplify your firm grip on the handle of history just yet, dearest,” Rose murmured as a group of teenage boys loped down the hall towards them.

“Shit, I owe one of them money. Catch you later, Rosita,” Dave said as he pulled Rose into a quick hug and pecked the top of her head. He casually headed towards his peers, if you could call them that. Rose snickered quietly before drifting to her next class.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dave dealt with his pseudo-friends quickly and went to lunch, bypassing all of the “healthy alternatives” that the school had introduced and headed straight for the burgers. He didn’t care what kind of facts Rose spewed about all the chemicals and preservatives, he was a staunch believer in omnivorism, heavy on the meat. He was still a growing boy, after all, although he seemed to have the metabolism of a mystery-loving Great Dane. Grabbing a tray with a burger, fries, and a carton full of a shitty excuse for milk, he headed for his usual lunch crew.

“Hey ‘Rezi, Vantas,” Dave said as he swung himself into a seat.

Terezi Pyrope had an arm clasped around her companion’s waist, and was using the other to flip Swedish Fish directly into her mouth. It wasn’t a terribly impressive performance to watch, until it became apparent that Terezi was wearing fire-red sunglasses indoors because she was legally blind. The first time Dave had witnessed this trick after learning of her disability, it had taken on an eery quality. Ms. Pyrope had a penchant for red, displayed by the aforementioned aquatic candies and sunglasses, bangles around her bony wrists, and the bandana holding back her mane of frizzy copper hair. Either due to her blindness or just because she liked it, Terezi had two fashion extremes: tye-dye and bright mismatched colors as she wore today, or the incredibly professional look of the pantsuits she wore for the days she interned at a local law office.

Beside her, loquacious as usual, was Karkat Vantas. His most striking feature was his shaggy, uneven pure white shock of hair, due to his albinism. In blatant contrast to Terezi and his pale complexion, he wore dark grey turtlenecks and black jeans nearly every day of the week unless his adopted sister could coax him into something less monochromatic. He was in the middle of a tirade about some dweebie internet fight when Dave sat down. Terezi interrupted him with her trademark predatory smile.

“Hey, coolkid,” Terezi quipped, waving in the direction she thought he was in. Karkat barely took a breath before turning to Dave, mouth still moving.

“Strider, what the fuck was the work for our shitty excuse for a history class? Serket refuses to tell me and lets loose one of her incredibly fucking grating cackles every time I ask, and Gamzee is no fucking help at all, he just sits there and stares off into space. How he got into a so-called “honors” class, nobody fucking knows, but he can’t be passing that shithole class. He justs sleeps in the back and laughs like a fucking homicidal maniac when the class is quiet. I don’t know why i even fucking bothered to ask him for the work because he never even fucking does any of it, just turns in papers with creepy-ass clown doodles.” He rattled all of this off in what seemed to be his only tone of voice: indignant. Even his whispers were loud and accusatory.

Dave filled in Karkat on the homework, and couldn't resist adding, “Makara is one weird-ass motherfucker.”

“Haha, Strider. Cute.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dave stood on the curved roof of Rose’s house, yelling useless instructions down to her as she adjusted her telescope.

“No, Rose, I can see it, it’s twenty degrees to the left.”

“I assure you that I have the star on the monitor and in the eyepiece, dead center, although your assistance is amusing.”

Dave grumbled. “Trust a man, will you?”

“Not a chance.”

Dave could practically hear the smug smile on her face. Pulling a small point-and-shoot camera out of his pocket, he carefully leaned over the gap in the roof of the observatory, making sure not to put his hand over the lense. He aimed the camera at the blond below him, who stared at the monitor impassively.

*click*

*click click click*

He captured several profiles and then action shots as she turned towards him.

“I knew you were being uncharacteristically quiet,” she smiled slowly as he snapped off another few shots of her face, hanging upside down. “Please come down before you fall and damage my telescope.”

Dave winced dramatically as he maneuvered his way down to the ground. “Ouch, Lalonde, way to pick your priorities.” He landed heavily, then fell onto his back and closed his eyes, laying an arm over his forehead. “Oh, woe is me, that my woman loves another, and that other is no more than a cold and heartless machine!” He gave a half smile, the Strider equivalent of an ear splitting grin. “Man, I can almost hear my bro Poe cheering from his old and dusty grave at that fine prose. He’d be all over that like flies on some quality shit. Mentally scarring all those aloof robots with his horrifically sick rhymes, like a zombie rapper with bad taste in women.”

“I could write an interpretation of his reaction, if you’d like,” Rose smiled as she sat primly on the ground next to him, so like the girl he’d met eight years ago and yet dramatically different.

He tucked her hair behind her ears. “Lalonde, I want a tragic love rap, not poetry ripped from the hearts of a thousand goth children with H. P. Lovecraft obsessions.” Standing up, he swung her up into his arms. She laughed, and bells echoed in the small chamber.

“Oooh, Mr. Strider, where ever could we be going? To show me how a real man treats a lady?” She winked coyly.

“C’mon, Rose, give me the benefit of the doubt here. I’m not sweeping you off your feet like one of Vantas’s shitty romcoms to deflower you like a demented gardener with a weedwhacker and a bone to pick; I want to look at the stars from outside this stuffy observatory. And yes, that metaphor looks oh so deep into my tortured subconscious, pushed up from my undoubtedly painful childhood, I know, Rose. Don’t spout psychobabble at me until after the sloppy makeouts.” He carried her out the door and onto a balcony, then set her down next to the railing. “Sometimes, you just need to turn off the hyperactive analytic tentacled horror that is your brain for five minutes.”

Rose smiled calmly and reached up to remove Dave’s barrier against the world. “I was under the impression that was what we were doing,” she murmured, and gently pressed her lips to his.

 

Ten minutes later, Rose sat sideways in Dave’s lap as he leaned his back against the railing. Rose’s black lipstick had half-transferred itself to Dave’s lips, at which Rose had to giggle.

“Oh, shit, Lalonde, you’ve finally done it. The transformation had begun, there is no cure.” He grabbed her face and looked into her eyes. “You gave me the goth, Rose, and there’s no going back.” She smiled even wider and silently laid her forehead against his own.

“Hey Lalonde,” Dave said quietly as she tucked her arms behind his neck.

“Yes, Strider dear,” she whispered back.

He reached up to twirl an end of her close-cropped hair. “Go to prom with me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why would I ever go to such a vile perpetuation of the madness that is high school?”

A lazy smile spread over his face as he kissed her forehead and cheeks in turn. “I have in my possession two hundred dollars in Barnes and Noble gift cards and a promise to let you drag me along when you decide to have a literary spending spree. Sweet, sweet addiction,” he crooned.

“Mr. Strider, are you implying that I can be purchased with such unusual tender such as the illustrious pull of free reading material? I am shocked at your improper advances.”

“Rose Beatrix Lalonde, you would kill if you could get your inky claws on some fine plush literary rump in return.” He smirked and silently initiated a staring contest, which after two and a half minutes he won.

“Fine, Strider, you win. I am legally bound by your strange transaction.”

He pulled her into a tight hug and kissed the top of her head. “You have just made me the happiest dude alive, Rosita.”

“Shouldn’t you say that after you deflower me violently, Strider dearest?”

“Shut up, Rose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this didn't take long at all!!  
> Rose's middle name is from Roxy's fantastic work, Wizardly Herbert. Ooh-la-la~~
> 
> Any questions or comments or just grammar issues can be directed to my main: arachnidstardis.tumblr.com.
> 
> Bonus points if you guess who Karkat's adopted sister is.


End file.
